


Everything Changes

by afteriwake



Series: A Little Holmes [14]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Big Bang Challenge, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-04
Updated: 2013-02-04
Packaged: 2017-11-26 12:22:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 17,792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/650479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afteriwake/pseuds/afteriwake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ever since Irene deposited their daughter in his care, Sherlock had been waiting for the other shoe to drop. Irene's past has always worried him, and thirteen months after Abigail is given to him he finds out just how right he was in knowing it would catch up to him, Irene and their daughter eventually. Sherlock learns that not all of Irene's former clients have accepted her disappearance, and one very powerful and very dangerous man has become obsessed with finding her. Irene wants to turn herself over to him to keep Sherlock and their daughter safe, but Sherlock is bound and determined not to let Irene become a virtual slave to a man with some very nasty preferences, knowing that when their daughter is old enough to understand she would never forgive them. But it turns out that taking on a man that powerful has consequences, ones that turn tragic when the final confrontation happens.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> My entry for **holmes_big_bang** at Livejournal (which I am posting early because my hard drive is acting up and I want to make sure I have it up _somewhere_ in case it dies like my laptop did). I didn't see a place for this warning, but there is mentions of pedophilia by an OMC character in this story. Nothing graphic, but it could be triggering.

Things had been going well. He had a daughter who was flourishing, a girlfriend who he cared about deeply and friends that he knew he could count on. He was happy for all of that, but he knew deep down that something could still go wrong. Irene had kept her involvement minimal, but she was still a wild card in all of this. Still, he didn’t let it trouble him too much. He balanced work and family, friends and girlfriend as best he could, and he found his life better for it. When Abigail had entered his life he thought he might fail miserably, but he had been determined to do his best. His daughter was his pride and joy, and at slightly over a year she was shining in every way she could. She had learned quite a few words and could speak in small sentences, she was walking at a fast enough speed that he thought she might start running soon, and she had formed close bonds to those who were around her.

He was considering changes in his relationship with Molly, as was John in his relationship with Mary. Even though he and Molly had only been in a relationship for just over eight months he had considered asking Molly to move in with him, if she was inclined to. He knew that she wanted to spend more time with Abigail, and if they lived in the same residence that would make it easier. They were already spending quite a bit of time together, and he thought she might be okay with the idea, but he wasn’t sure. Relationships were still new to him and he didn’t know if this was too fast or not. He wasn’t quite sure how to broach this, and he was waiting for John to move his relationship forward to see what his options were.

Today, though, he was alone with his daughter as John was at work and Mrs. Hudson was visiting her son. They had been alone for most of the day and Molly was supposed to come over that afternoon to spend time with them. He had just put Abigail in her crib for her nap when he heard someone come in the front door. He wasn’t expecting anyone, so he cautiously made his way out to the common room. There were two men in masks in the room. They hadn’t seen him, so he got the nearest thing he could use as a weapon, the lead pipe that John had decided to keep nearby for just such an occurance. He’d already hit one of the intruders in the back before they knew he was there. He hit the downed man in the head when he felt a shock run through him, and then nothing.

He didn’t know how long he was out. When he came to he saw the other man still near him on the ground. He reached over and checked for a pulse. It was faint and thready, but there. He got up as quickly as he could and bolted to his room. Abigail was not where he had left her, and in her crib was a note. The sense of déjà vu settled over him. It had been nearly eight months since Moriarty had her taken. He opened the note and read it.

_Mr. Holmes,_

_I need to find Irene Adler. Your daughter is being held as collateral. If you can produce Miss Adler in two weeks I will return your daughter unharmed. After that is another matter. Her fate is in your hands. Deliver Miss Adler to the address below in two weeks’ time and I will return your daughter to you._

There was an address underneath, and he crumpled the note slightly in his fist. His daughter had been kidnapped and was being held ransom for _something_ her mother had done. He was incredibly angry at Irene, a rage that he had not felt towards that woman before. And the worst part was he didn’t know where to start to find her. It had been two months since the last time she had contacted him, and the parcel she sent had been sent from San Diego. Finding out whether she was still there or not would be his first priority.

He went for his phone and looked at it. He debated calling Lestrade first, but if he called his brother Mycroft could begin to find Irene. He pulled up his brother and let the phone ring. Mycroft picked up after three rings. “Sherlock,” he said.

“Abigail’s been kidnapped by people who want Irene Adler delivered to them in two weeks,” he said.

There was a pause on Mycroft’s end. “How many men came to take her?”

“Two. One of them is still here. His pulse is faint, but he’s alive.”

“Very well. Call for an ambulance, then call Detective Inspector Lestrade. I’ll be there shortly.” He paused. “You may as well call John and Molly. They both care for her and should know. But call Lestrade first.”

“All right.” Mycroft hung up and Sherlock made the first two calls his brother told him to make. Lestrade promised he would be there as quickly as possible. Then he dialed John’s number. “John. Abigail’s been taken.”

John was quiet for a moment. “What do you need to do to get her back?”

“Find Irene and deliver her in two weeks.”

“All right,” he replied. “I’ll talk to Sarah, take time off from the clinic. We’ll find Irene and we’ll get Abigail back.” Then he paused. “Have you told Molly yet?”

“No. She’s next.”

“Good luck,” John said. “I don’t think she’ll take the news well.”

“I don’t think she will as well.” He hung up, then dialed Molly’s number and took a deep breath. She picked up after two rings. “Molly. I need to tell you something. Are you sitting down?”

“Yes,” she said quietly. “Sherlock, what’s wrong?”

“Abigail’s been taken.” Molly gasped. “I have two weeks to deliver her mother to get her back.”

“I’ll be right there,” she said.

“There’s no need.”

“I know, but…I still want to be there. Perhaps I can help.”

He didn’t argue. Truth be told, he wanted her around. “All right.”

“Sherlock, it will be okay. You’ll find her mother and you’ll get Abigail back. I have faith in you.”

“Thank you,” he said. He hung up and waited. Soon he heard the sirens of the ambulance, and he went to the door. He allowed the paramedics inside and watched them as they stabilized the intruder. They checked him over as well but he refused to be taken to the hospital. By the time they were done Lestrade and Donovan were there.

Donovan came up to him first. “I’m so sorry, Sherlock,” she said. Donovan had mellowed in the last thirteen months, and while she and Sherlock weren’t close there was no longer any animosity between them. She placed a hand on his arm, and Sherlock looked at it for a moment. “I want to help get her back.”

“Thank you,” he said.

Lestrade came up to them. “Donovan, go with the suspect. When he wakes up, try and get all the information you can.”

“Right,” she said with a nod before following the paramedics out of the flat.

Lestrade turned back to him. “Whatever we can do, Sherlock, just ask.”

“Thank you,” he said. “My brother will be here shortly, as will John and Molly.”

“God, I can’t believe this happened,” Lestrade said, running a hand through his hair. “Why on earth would they think you knew where that woman was? When was the last time you heard from her?”

“Two months ago,” he said. “She sent a parcel with money and some expensive story books from California.” Sherlock went to sit down in a chair and held his head in his hands for a moment. “I know I’m a consulting detective, and I’ve found Irene before, but it’s harder this time and the stakes are so much higher.” He moved his hands over his face and then clasped his hands together and rested his chin on his knuckles. “If I lose Abigail I don’t know what I’ll do,” he said quietly.

“You’ll get your daughter back,” Lestrade said, placing a hand on Sherlock’s shoulder. He squeezed it once just as the door opened and Mycroft came in with John right behind him. “We have the suspect in custody. Donovan is with him for when he wakes up.”

Mycroft nodded once. “Thank you,” he replied. He went to the mantle and stood by it, staring at one of the photographs of Abigail. He picked up the photograph after a moment and looked at it more closely. “I need you to help me. Off the record, Lestrade.”

“Absolutely.”

“We have had this home under surveillance.” Sherlock looked at him sharply. “Miss Adler has returned to Britain. She has changed her looks, but when she returned we weren’t sure if she would try and reclaim Abigail. We know exactly where she is, and already people have been sent to fetch her.”

“If you knew she was back why didn’t you tell me?” Sherlock asked through gritted teeth. He got up and went to his brother. “I had a right to know.”

“I would have told you if she made a move,” Mycroft said.

Sherlock stood in front of his brother for a moment, then pulled back his fist and slugged his brother in the face. Mycroft took the punch well, and John and Lestrade moved up to Sherlock and pulled him back. “How do you know this isn’t her move?” he said loudly.

“She’s been back for three weeks and talked to no one except her lawyer,” Mycroft said, rubbing his jaw. “She has only left to eat and visit her lawyer’s office, and her room was bugged the first time she left. We’ve had full audio and video surveillance on her since then.”

Sherlock shrugged both Lestrade and John’s hands off of him. “Why is she here?”

“I don’t know,” Mycroft said. “The only matter she talked to her lawyer about was her will.”

Sherlock looked at him, and then his attention was directed by a sound at the doorway. He turned and saw Molly running up the stairs. He went over to her and she wrapped her arms around his waist. As he held her close he could feel his anger lessen slightly. “When you get her, I wish to speak to her,” he said quietly to his brother.

Mycroft nodded. “As you wish.”

“You know where Abigail’s mother is?” Molly asked, looking at Sherlock.

“My brother has been tracking her since she returned here,” Sherlock said.

“You’re a right bastard for not telling him,” Molly said to Mycroft.

“He’s already made that sentiment known,” Mycroft said. “Where do you want her brought to, Sherlock?”

“Here,” he said. “Afterwards you can take her wherever you want for the next two weeks.”

“Very well,” Mycroft said with a nod. “She will be here within a half hour.”

“So now we wait,” John said.

Sherlock nodded. “Now we wait.”

Everyone settled in, the tense silence only broken by Donovan’s call that the other intruder had woken up but said nothing. Lestrade left to go talk to him, and Mycroft had said that if they needed to use force to get the information the government would step in and sweep things under the rug. Lestrade had nodded and then left. Almost twenty minutes after he left there were more sounds coming from the front door. Two government agents came in with Irene Adler in front of them.

“Sherlock,” she said. She had cut her hair short and dyed it red, and she was not wearing the same high end clothing he had seen her in before. She looked weary and tired.

“Irene,” Sherlock said with a nod.

She looked around. “Hello again, John,” she said to John. John nodded but said nothing. Then she turned to Molly, who had been sitting close to Sherlock. “You must be Sherlock’s girlfriend Molly. It’s nice to meet you in person.”

“Hello,” Molly said quietly.

“I suppose you want to know why I came back,” she said as she turned back to Sherlock. “My cover was blown, so to speak. And there was no way I could continue to hide where I had been hiding. I came back to ask for your help.”

“What did you do, Irene?” Sherlock asked.

“An old client tracked me down. He was tenacious. He said that since I had left his life had gone downhill. He threatened me unless I returned to London and took him on as my exclusive client. I said I had nothing left. He told me he would take our daughter away from you. I didn’t believe him.” She reached into the bag on her shoulder and pulled out a folder, holding it out to Sherlock. He got up and took the folder, then opened it and pulled out the contents. There were pictures of him and Abigail, him and Molly, him and John. He looked at Irene. “He threatened to kill you, John and Molly and keep Abigail locked away if I didn’t come back. So I came back.”

“Why didn’t you contact me earlier?”

“I didn’t know if my old client was monitoring my movements, though apparently your brother was. I was biding my time to make sure. He hadn’t contacted me since I left Washington D.C. Now I know he didn’t know I had come back.” She reached over and put a hand on Sherlock’s arm. “I’m so sorry, Sherlock.”

Sherlock looked down at her hand and then shrugged it off. Irene pulled it back sharply. “You had best pray that I get Abigail back safely,” he said quietly. Then he looked at Mycroft. “You can take her away now.”

Mycroft looked at him. “On the contrary, I thought it might be best if she stayed here.” Sherlock’s eyes widened. “You have the biggest reason for making sure Irene is still here in two weeks.”

“Out of the question,” Sherlock said. “I don’t want her in my sight right now.”

“It’s the best plan,” Molly said quietly, and everyone turned to her. She only looked at Sherlock, and kept his eyes on her. “Your brother is right. If she’s here and you can keep an eye on her, you’ll be able to deliver her to the person who wants her and get Abigail back.” She stood up and went over to him. “It’s only for two weeks.”

“I’ll stay,” Irene said, and Sherlock looked from Molly to her. “I won’t try and leave, and I’ll go willingly to wherever it is you need me to go in two weeks. I know how much Abigail means to you.”

“You have _no idea_ what my daughter means to me,” he said angrily, and Irene took a step back.

“She means the world to you,” Irene said quietly. “You would sell her mother into slavery to get her back.”

Sherlock blinked slightly. He hadn’t perceived of it that way, but indeed, that was what was going to happen. Before he had to respond his cell phone rang. He went to his pocket and pulled it out, glancing at the number on it. “Lestrade,” he said by way of greeting.

“Donovan got an address. Your daughter isn’t supposed to be picked up for another hour. We’re going to get her back.”

“What is the address?” Sherlock asked. Lestrade gave it to him; it was not that far from his home. “I’ll be there shortly,” Sherlock said before hanging up. He looked at John. “Stay here, watch Irene.”

“Where are you going?” John asked, standing up from his chair.

“I’m going to get Abigail back,” he replied.

Molly touched his arm. “Be careful,” she said.

He leaned in and kissed her quickly, heedless of whomever else was in the room. “I will,” He turned and gave Irene one last look, noting the quizzical yet hopeful look on her face, and then he left. He hailed a cab and got out where Lestrade had told him to be, seeing no one else around. He only had forty minutes now, and while he didn’t want to wait he knew Lestrade would have a plan.

Lestrade arrived moments later and laid out the plan for him. It was only Lestrade and Donovan and Sherlock. Donovan would go to the door, give the password and get Abigail, and then Lestrade and Sherlock would go in afterwards and get the second kidnapper. It seemed to be a feasible plan, and Sherlock pulled the gun out of his ankle holster and got ready.

Donovan walked a full flight of stairs ahead, and waited outside the door until Sherlock and Lestrade were at the corner. She knocked on the door, and it opened a crack. “I’ve come to pick up the package in regards to Miss Adler,” she said, and the door closed. There was a tense wait, and then three minutes later the door opened and Abigail was handed to Donovan, along with a bag. Donovan quickly made her way to the stairs and showed Abigail to Sherlock. “She’s perfectly safe,” she said with a smile.

Sherlock kissed his daughter’s forehead. “Daddy will be back soon,” he said to his daughter. He nodded to Donovan and she took Abigail down the stairs. Sherlock and Lestrade slowly made their way to the door, and after a moment Sherlock kicked the door in. The kidnapper looked surprised and reached for his weapon, but when he saw both Sherlock and Lestrade had guns he put his hands in the air instead. Lestrade cuffed the man and looked at Sherlock. “Go take your daughter home,” he replied.

“Thank you,” Sherlock said, and he made his way down the stairs to the car Lestrade and Donovan had arrived in. Donovan was playing with Abigail. Sherlock took a closer look at the bag and saw it was the one he kept on the back of his door for when he traveled with her. “She’s all right?”

“She appears to be all right, Sherlock,” Donovan said, lifting Abigail up from the front seat of the car and handing her to Sherlock. Sherlock cradled his daughter close, pressing a kiss in her hair. She was safe and back with him. “I broke the suspect’s nose when he wouldn’t talk,” she said.

Sherlock grinned slightly. He would never have expected Donovan to be the one to get physical. “I’m in your debt,” he said.

“Bring Abigail around to Scotland Yard when all of this is over and let me spend some time with her and we’ll call it even,” she said with a grin. “I need the practice.” He looked at her, eyebrow raised. “I’m three months pregnant.”

“Congratulations,” he said, and he meant it.

“Thank you,” she replied. “Do you want me to call a patrol car to take you home?”

He shook his head. “I can take a cab.”

“I’ll see you both soon then,” she said, giving Abigail a wave that the little girl returned.

Sherlock made his way out to the street and hailed a cab. He held Abigail the entire ride home, and when he got to 221B Baker Street he got out and made his way up the stairs. Mycroft, John, Molly and Irene were all waiting, and they all turned to him when he came in. “She’s safe,” Sherlock said. The look of relief on everyone’s faces, even Mycroft’s, spoke volumes. 

John came over to him first. “Let me just check her out,” he said. Sherlock handed Abigail to him and he put her on the sofa.

“Jaw-jaw hi,” Abigail said happily.

“It’s good to see you too, Abby,” he said with a grin. He slowly got her undressed, then checked her over carefully before tickling her belly. Then he turned back to Sherlock. “No bruises or anything like that,” he said with a tone of relief as he got her dressed again. 

Sherlock nodded. “That’s good.” Molly had come over to his side, and she gripped his hand tightly. Then she let go and he went over to Abigail. “Abigail, there’s someone I would like you to meet,” he said as he picked her up. He took her over to Irene. “This is Irene. She’s your mother.”

Abigail turned to Molly and pointed. “Mama.”

Sherlock was looking at Irene’s face and saw the heartbroken expression on her face for a moment before a smile wiped it away. “It’s all right,” she said. “She doesn’t know me.” She looked at Sherlock. “May I hold her?”

Sherlock nodded. “Abigail,” he said. “Irene would like to hold you now.”

Abigail turned away from Molly and looked at Irene, giving her a wide smile and reaching towards her. Irene took the little girl and held her close. “You’ve gotten so big,” Irene said, her voice slightly shaky.

Sherlock watched them for a moment before he turned to his brother. “There will be agents outside the home at all hours?” he asked.

Mycroft nodded. “Yes. And outside Miss Hooper’s residence as well.”

“I’d rather stay here,” Molly said. “If that’s all right.”

“I would prefer that myself,” Sherlock said. Then he turned to Molly. “Can you take two weeks away from work?”

She nodded. “My life has been threatened. I’m sure I can get two weeks off.”

“I contacted Mrs. Hudson while you were getting Abigail,” Mycroft said. “She will remain at her son’s home until this matter is settled.”

Sherlock nodded. “She’ll be safe there.” He looked at John. “How do we want to do the sleeping arrangements?”

“Irene can stay in my room and I’ll stay out here. Molly can stay with you.”

“Do you want to tell Mary what is going on?” he said.

“She’s out of town for the next three weeks, visiting family. I’ll tell her, but she shouldn’t be in danger.”

“One less person to worry about,” Sherlock said with a nod. “Stay here with Irene and Abigail. I’ll accompany Molly to get some things from her home. Keep them safe.”

“Right,” John said.

Sherlock went over to Molly. “Let’s go get some of your things.”

“All right,” she said with a nod.

She pulled her keys from her pocket and she and Sherlock headed towards her car. They got in and drove to her home in near silence. It wasn’t until they went inside that Sherlock spoke. “I am sorry for all this.”

“It’s all right,” she said. “I just hope all of us can be in the same place for two weeks without killing each other.” She went to her bedroom and pulled out a suitcase, placed it on her bed and then went to her drawers. “Irene is very pretty,” she said quietly.

“I suppose.”

“I can see why Abigail looks so beautiful.” She opened a drawer and began pulling clothing out. “She’s prettier than I am.”

“She may be a classic beauty, Molly, but you are hardly unattractive.” He went behind her and placed his hands on her shoulders. “I am not attracted to her. You have my heart now.”

She reached a hand up and grasped the hand on her right shoulder. “That may be the nicest thing you’ve said to me.”

“It’s the truth.” He paused. “I probably should have told you before this that I am in love with you.”

She moved her hand away and turned to look at him. “I love you too, Sherlock,” she said with a wide smile on her face.

“Good,” he said with a grin of his own before touching her face gently. “I should have told you months ago. I’m sorry.”

“Well, we’ve been taking everything slowly. I wasn’t sure if you’d ever say it, but that was okay. I knew I loved you and I didn’t want to not be with you.” She leaned in and kissed him softly, a kiss she might have intended to be brief but he kept her close and deepened it. When they finally pulled apart it was only because they needed to breathe. “If I didn’t need to pack I’d take that further,” she said with a smile.

“I would as well,” he said, using a hand to tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear. He was quiet for a moment. “Perhaps when this is over you might consider making a more permanent move,” he said quietly.

“Do you mean move in with you and Abigail?” she asked.

He nodded. “Yes. You want to be more involved in her life, and if you resided with us it would be easier.”

She nodded slowly. “I see. Let me think about it, all right?”

“All right,” he said, feeling slightly dejected. She must have noticed because she chuckled slightly. “What?”

“I’ll probably say yes,” she said with a smile. “So don’t look so worried.” He grinned back and kissed her again before leaving her be to get her clothing. She packed quickly, then went to the kitchen and got a paper bag and put some food items in it. Then she took out a second bag and went to her bookshelf, pulling out some books as well as a photo album. She looked at Sherlock, who raised an eyebrow. “I might as well keep something special over there, and I figure I will leave the clothing there when I come back home,” she said to Sherlock. When she was finished he took the bag of food and the bag of books and she wheeled the suitcase out. She paused and looked at her home for a moment. “It’s going to be strange not coming home for two weeks.”

“But you’ll manage, right?” he asked, shifting the bags.

She nodded. “Yes, I will.” She leaned over and kissed his cheek. “I’ll think of this as a test run.”

“Just note that if you do actually move in there will be less people in the home,” he said as he got into her car.

“I know.” She got behind the wheel and started the car, driving back to 221 Baker Street. They got out of the car and went inside, seeing Mycroft gone and John cooking. Irene had Abigail at the table and was watching her eat cereal. “That smells nice, John,” she said as she got closer.

“Thanks. There’s just enough for all four of us,” he replied. “Another agent brought Irene’s belongings and they’re all sitting in my room now.”

“You don’t have to give up your room, John,” Irene said from the table.

“You look like you haven’t slept since you arrived and the sofa isn’t that comfortable,” John said. “I’m doing it to be nice.”

“Thank you,” she said as Abigail pushed a piece of cereal towards her. She smiled at her daughter as she picked it up and popped it in her mouth. “And thank you, Abigail.”

Abigail smiled and clapped slightly. “Mo?”

Irene looked at Sherlock, who had a slight grin on his face. “What is she asking?”

“She wants to know if you want more. If she’s willing to share her cereal it means she likes you.”

“Oh,” Irene said before turning back to Abigail. “Yes, please.” Abigail pushed another piece of cereal towards her, and Irene popped that bit into her mouth as well. “Thank you again, Abigail.”

“Irie,” she said, pushing another piece of cereal towards Irene.

“I think she’s trying to say your name,” Sherlock said as he sat across from Irene.

“I thought as much,” she said with a smile. She took the cereal and ate that bit. “She’s so smart.”

“She is,” Sherlock said with a nod.

“I’ve missed so much,” she replied, reaching over and stroking Abigail’s cheek slightly. “Leaving her here was the best decision, I know that, but…” She sighed, then turned to Sherlock. “I am so sorry all of you are involved in this.”

“I’ve decided I want to help you get out of your predicament,” Sherlock said. “You need to tell me everything, or else I can’t keep you safe.”

“Why?” she said, looking back at Abigail.

“Keeping you safe keeps Abigail safe,” he said.

“You won’t be able to stop him,” she said quietly, going back to stroking her daughter’s cheek gently. “He has power you can’t touch. Not even your brother can lay a finger on him.”

“Who is he, Irene?”

“George Wellington,” she replied, and Sherlock’s eyes went wide. “Yes, the billionaire who has close ties to the Prime Minister. He blames me for the failures in his life, but he still has money and he still has clout.” She turned to Sherlock. “He will treat me well, Sherlock. And being with him…he won’t hurt any of you. I’ll go to him willingly in two weeks.”

“As you said, its slavery,” he replied.

“And I’ll do it for her,” she said. “I can’t do much more for her, but I can do this.”

“This is not another debt you can repay by offering up your body,” he said insistently.

“It’s my body, Sherlock, and I’ll do what I please with it,” she snapped. She stared at him, her face taut and firm. “In two weeks you’ll deliver me to him, and then you and Abigail and everyone else will be safe. I’ve made my choice and you can’t talk me out of it.” She stood up and looked at Abigail. “Please, just let me do this.”

“No. I will find a way out of this for you.”

Irene looked even more tired and weary than she had when she arrived. “I need to go lie down,” she said. She went to Abigail and kissed the top of her head, then left the room and made her way to John’s bedroom.

“She’s right, you know,” John said from the kitchen after a moment’s silence. “If she goes to him we’re all safe.”

“I would not be able to look my daughter in the face if I put her mother in a situation where she was a virtual slave,” Sherlock said quietly.

“Then we’ll help you,” Molly said, coming up behind Sherlock and putting her hands on his shoulders. “Right, John?”

“All right,” John said with a nod. “You’ve got us on board. What do we want to do first?”

“I’m not sure,” Sherlock said. “I need to think on this for a bit.” He placed one hand on top of Molly’s left hand and tilted his head back to look at her. “Thank you.”

“Welcome,” she said with a smile, squeezing his shoulders once. She let go, got Abigail out of the high chair and went into the kitchen, leaving Sherlock to think in peace. He was still thinking when dinner was served, and ignored the food placed before him. Molly took a plate to Irene and when she returned Sherlock had begun to eat, an idea in his head. “You’re eating. You must have thought of something.”

“I have, but it’s risky,” he replied. “And Irene will have to agree with it. I need to know what secrets of Wellington’s she’s keeping, and I’ll need Lestrade and Mycroft’s help as well.” He paused before taking another bite. “If we fail we might end up in prison, or worse.”

“I’m still willing to help,” John said.

“Me too,” Molly replied.

Sherlock looked at Molly. “No. If this goes wrong, I need you safe. Someone will need to take care of Abigail, and I trust you.” Molly opened her mouth and Sherlock shook his head. “Please, Molly. I need to know she’ll be taken care of.”

“All right,” she said quietly.

He turned back to John. “I had the liberty of having a will drafted shortly after Abigail arrived. Tomorrow I’ll go make the changes to make sure Molly is listed as her legal guardian if anything happens to me. Then we’ll get to work.”

They all remained silent through dinner, and soon enough Molly retired to Sherlock’s bedroom to get some sleep. Sherlock and John began to go over Sherlock’s idea, and made some plans. Finally, Sherlock left the common room to go to sleep. Molly had brought Abigail into the room with her and he checked his daughter before changing and going to bed. He had thought Molly was asleep but when he pulled her against him she spoke. “I want to help,” she said.

“You will, by making sure Abigail is taken care of,” he said quietly, his lips near her ear. “I can’t do this if I’m not one hundred percent sure she’ll be safe if anything happens to me.”

“I don’t want to lose you, Sherlock,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper as she rolled over to face him. “Just promise me you’ll be careful.”

He reached over and touched her face tenderly, wiping away a tear. “I promise.”

She kissed him then, an almost desperate kiss, and he kissed her back. Normally when she stayed over nothing happened, but tonight things went differently. Soon night clothes were shed and they were being intimate, in a way that seemed tender yet frantic, a contradiction he had never felt before. They both needed it, and he knew that this could very well be the last time he was with her in that way. He wanted to make it memorable and special, and when they were done he pulled her close against him, hoping he had done so. He waited for her breathing to steady and her to fall asleep. Once she was asleep he allowed himself to drift off to sleep as well, as best he could for the night.


	2. Chapter 2

The next morning Sherlock had gathered Lestrade and Mycroft to spell out his plan to them. Irene ignored the talking, playing with Abigail in John’s room. Molly watched and listened for a little while, but after about an hour she headed towards John’s room. She got to the door and knocked hesitantly. “Yes?” Irene asked from the other side.

“It’s Molly. I thought you might like to talk for a moment.”

There was a pause. “Come in,” Irene said finally.

Molly opened the door and went in. Irene was sitting on the edge of the bed, watching Abigail move around the room. Abigail turned to the sound of the door and grinned at Molly. “Mama,” she said.

“Hello, sweetie,” Molly said to Abigail with a large smile before sitting next to Irene. “We’ve been trying to get her to call me something else for months,” she said to Irene.

“It’s all right. You’re more a mother to her than I am,” Irene said quietly, her voice sad. Abigail came up to her and lifted her arms up, and Irene picked her up and set her on her lap. “I don’t think she’d be this way if she had remained with me. Friendly and loving and open.”

“What has it been like?” Molly asked.

“I would start to settle into a place and then I’d get spooked, so I’d pull up my roots and run,” she said, running her fingers through Abigail’s curly hair. “I never stayed in a place for more than two months. I’d get an alert that someone was looking for me and they were close, so I’d leave again. I should have known I couldn’t outrun him.”

“That’s no life for anyone,” Molly said.

“I envy you,” Irene said. “Not just because you have Sherlock in the way I thought I wanted him, and not because you’re helping to raise my daughter. You seem to have a good life, one with meaning. I wonder if my life ever had any meaning.” She turned to look at Molly. “I want to spend all my time with her, because in less than two weeks I’ll never see her again. I won’t have anyone telling me how she’s doing or sending me grainy photographs taken from a distance. He’ll make sure of it.”

“Sherlock has a plan,” Molly said. “You should listen to it.”

“He’s just going to get himself killed,” Irene said. “Him and anyone stupid enough to go along with his plan.” She looked back at her daughter. “Who’s going to take care of her when that happens?”

“I will,” Molly said.

“That’s good. You love her, at least.” Irene stayed quiet for a moment. “Do you love him?”

“Yes,” she said with a nod.

“I never loved him. I was infatuated with him, awed by him a bit. I don’t think I ever could have loved him, though. I don’t know if I could ever love any man. I don’t know if I could accept their love, either.”

“I think he cares for you,” she said.

“And you’re not jealous?” Irene asked, surprised.

“You’re the mother of his daughter. Abigail means more to him than anything else in this world, even you and I. But you carried her, and you gave birth to her, and you placed her in his care. You’re important to him for that reason alone. I know sometimes he wonders how things might have gone differently if you’d stayed. He goes to John with those thoughts, mostly, but every once in a while he tells me.”

“He wouldn’t be the same man he is now if I’d stayed,” Irene replied, resting her cheek on top of Abigail’s head.

“No, he wouldn’t. But he might have been close.”

“I thought you would hate me,” Irene said. “But you’re…nice. You’re understanding. You care. I can see he made a good choice in starting a relationship with you.”

“I couldn’t hate you,” she said. “I tried, I did. I was so angry at Sherlock when I found out he had a daughter, and at you, and I wasn’t even a true friend of his at the time. But he told me something that I’ve remembered. He told me I would have fought for her. He may be blind to some things, but he saw that. And he knew we were different, and knowing that…I couldn’t hate you. I felt sorry for you.”

“Pity. Just what I need,” she said with a sigh, lifting her head up. 

“I don’t feel sorry for you now.”

“Oh?”

“While I think it’s a stupid decision, the fact that you’re willing to give up your freedom for your daughter tells me we’re not all that different, in the end. We would both do what’s best for Abigail. That’s why I think you should at least hear Sherlock out. What kind of reaction is your daughter going to have when she finds out you traded away your freedom for her life and her father didn’t stop it? She’ll hate you both.”

Irene was quiet. “If our positions were reversed, would you listen to his plan?”

Molly nodded. “I’d give him the chance. If we can get this man’s hold over you to be broken, you might be able to be more involved in Abigail’s life. You can see all the things she’s doing.”

“I still have other enemies,” Irene pointed out.

“I know,” she replied. “But maybe you wouldn’t have to run so often, or run so far. It’s always a possibility.” Molly stood up. “At least consider it.”

“I will,” Irene said with a slight nod. She watched Molly stand up. “Thank you.”

“For what?” she asked, slightly confused.

“For taking such good care of my daughter,” she said with a faint smile on her lips. “And for taking good care of Sherlock.”

Molly blushed slightly. “How could I not?” She turned at that and left the room, going back to the common room.

Mycroft and Lestrade had left, and John was preparing lunch. Sherlock was on the sofa, and she sat next to him. It took him a moment to register that she was there, but when he did he put an arm around her shoulders and pulled her close. “How is Abigail?”

“She’s good,” Molly said, nestling close to him. “She seems to be enjoying the undivided attention.”

“And Irene?”

“She’s been better,” Molly said. “It’s been very rough for her since she gave Abigail up. I tried to convince her to listen to your plan but I don’t think I was successful.”

“At least you were able to talk to her more than I was,” he replied. “I don’t think it will be me that changes her mind.”

“Probably not. I’ll try again later.”

“Thank you,” he said. They were still sitting like that when Irene came out a half hour later, carrying Abigail. “Irene,” he said quietly.

“Do you really think you can stop him?” she asked, sitting down in the chair near him. “Without getting everyone killed in the process?”

Sherlock nodded slowly as he let go of Molly and leaned forward. “Mycroft has kept hold of all the photographs and blackmail you had on your phone. He has been the only one privy to it. He’s willing to give us the information regarding George Wellington. We believe it will give us leverage for the first part of the plan.”

“What do you want to have happen?” she asked.

“I want a meeting, to turn over the information in exchange for leaving you alone.”

Irene shook her head. “He doesn’t care about the pictures and videos I took,” she said. “He can weather a storm of bad public relations for being involved with me. He has the money and clout to make it all go away.”

He looked at her. “Do you have any other suggestions?”

She was quiet for a moment. “No, I don’t.”

“Then let’s at least try,” Sherlock replied.

Irene gave him a sad smile. “I’m starting to think the only way I might be free is if he’s dead,” she said quietly. “Unless there’s substantial risk to his public image, he’ll just shrug everything off.”

Sherlock was quiet for a moment. “Would you say you know what he likes?”

“Quite well,” she replied with a nod.

“Is there anything that might be a substantial risk to his image?”

She thought for a few minutes. “Sometimes he wanted other people in the bedroom. Young girls. I said no to that, every time. I couldn’t do my job well with people who weren’t trained, and I put my foot down about underage girls. I managed to convince him to let Kate join us, but after three sessions we dropped the idea entirely.”

“You’ve been gone over two years,” Sherlock mused. “Perhaps he’s found a way to indulge himself.”

“You want to find out if he’s done something illegal,” Molly replied.

Sherlock nodded. “Bringing proof of those types of encounters into the meeting could convince him you’re not worth pursuing. Being accused of being a pedophile with a predilection for young girls would topple the image he’s trying to portray to everyone.”

“But you have less than two weeks,” Irene said. “How on earth are you going to get proof?”

“It will take a lot of resources, but I’ll find a way,” Sherlock replied. “For now, let’s concentrate on what you know about him. Tell me everything, Irene.”

Irene nodded slowly. “All right.” She began to speak, telling Sherlock, Molly and John everything she could about George Wellington. When she noticed Molly started to look slightly uncomfortable she handed Abigail to her and suggested it might be best if she took Abigail out of the room. Molly did so gratefully and Irene continued. Nearly two hours had passed before she finished.

“He’s a sick bastard,” John said when she was done. “And you were willingly going to go back to him?”

Irene nodded. “Yes, to protect Abigail.”

John looked at her with a newfound appreciation. “We’ll stop this, right, Sherlock?”

Sherlock nodded. “Yes. I will not allow you to be his slave, Irene. I promise.”

“Thank you,” she replied. “Perhaps Molly was right that I should trust you.”

“She was,” he replied. “Why don’t you go to Abigail now, Irene?”

“All right,” she said. She stood up and went to John’s room.

John looked at Sherlock closely. “We have thirteen days to hand her over, and that’s if there’s no retribution for you getting Abigail away from the kidnappers.”

“I’d been pondering that,” Sherlock said, his fingers steepled together in front of his face. “If he knows by now that I have Abigail back, he may know Irene is here as well. We must act on this new information fast.”

“Sherlock!” Irene called out from John’s room, and both John and Sherlock bolted from the living room to there. Irene was holding Abigail, who was fussy, and sitting next to Molly, who was clutching her phone and crying. Sherlock went over to Molly and knelt in front of her. “Her home’s been torched,” she said quietly, a hand on Molly’s shoulder. “She just got the call from Lestrade.”

“There’s your retribution,” John said from the doorway. “He didn’t go after you directly so he went after those you hold close.”

Molly looked up and Sherlock pulled her into an embrace. “I know they’re just things, but…my life was there, all the things I’d worked so hard for,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “Oh my God, what if I’d been in there?”

“I’m so sorry,” Sherlock replied, holding her tightly. She reached around and held him close. “I didn’t think he’d go after you, Molly.”

“That makes my decision easier,” she said.

“I didn’t want it to be under these circumstances, though,” he replied. “Is Lestrade there now?”

She nodded slightly. “Yes.”

“Does he want you to go there and survey the damage?” John asked.

“No. He wants me to stay here because he’s worried they might try worse if I go.” She pulled away from Sherlock and looked at him. “Do you think they meant to kill me?”

“I don’t know,” he said. “It would have been a very powerful message to me if they’d killed you.”

“It’s suicide to take him on,” Irene said while trying to soothe Abigail.

“I’ll bring him down if it’s the last thing I do,” Sherlock said, not looking away from Molly.

“It might very well _be_ the last thing you do,” Irene replied.

“I know.” He reached up and touched Molly’s face gently. “Do you want me to continue?”

She nodded slowly as she wrapped her arms around herself. “Yes. I won’t feel safe until he’s not a threat to any of us.”

“Do you want me to go see if anything is salvageable?”

“No. Greg said he’d do it. Just stay here for a while, all right?”

Sherlock nodded. “All right.” He turned to Irene. “Do you know how to fire a gun?”

Irene nodded. “I’ve had to in the past, once or twice,” she said.

“Good. John will show you where the gun is in this room and the living room. Keep them near you when we’re out.”

“I can shoot, too,” Molly said. Sherlock turned to her, surprised. “I started practicing after I got out of my cast, after Jim had Abigail taken. Greg has been my teacher. I have my gun with me, in my suitcase.”

“Do you have a holster?”

She shook her head. “No.”

“I’ll loan you my ankle holster. Keep the gun on you at all times, unless you’re sleeping.”

“All right.” Irene had finally gotten Abigail to quiet down, and so she stood up. Sherlock moved to sit where she had been sitting, and Molly leaned her head on his shoulder. “Do you think they’ll try something here?”

“I don’t know,” he replied quietly. “I just want to make sure everyone here is as safe as possible. If you both have access to firearms while here I’ll feel better. Do you want to go get your gun now and I’ll get you the holster?”

“All right,” she said. The two of them got up off the bed and left the room, leaving John, Irene and Abigail alone.

“Are you still willing to follow his lead in this?” Irene asked, sitting down on the bed again.

John nodded. “If he thought burning down Molly’s home would stop us he was mistaken. He’s tried to steal my goddaughter and he hurt a friend. I don’t take that lightly.”

“You know the only real way to stop him is to kill him, right?” she said.

John nodded again. “Yeah, I’m starting to see that.”

“Are you willing to do that?”

“I am.” She looked at him closely. “I may be a doctor, and I may have taken an oath to save lives, but I’ve also been a soldier. I know that sometimes enemies need to be shot down because they’re such a big threat. I look at George Wellington that way, even if Sherlock doesn’t. I guess you could say I’m more pragmatic.”

“I’m glad at least one person involved is,” Irene replied. “He’s a dangerous man. He’s always scared me a bit, but I thought I had control over things. I thought I could control him. I know now I only fooled myself into thinking that.” She sighed. “I’m sorry I ever took him on as a client.”

“All you can do now is go along with Sherlock’s plan and pray it works, or at least pray that we find a way to take him out for good.”

“I don’t believe in a higher power,” she said.

“Perhaps you should start,” he replied before going to leave the room.

Irene sat there for a few moments, looking at Abigail, who had started to fall asleep. “Perhaps I should,” she murmured. “Let’s put you to bed, shall we?” She got up and balanced Abigail against her and made her way to Sherlock’s room. She hadn’t been in there since she fell asleep in his bed all that time ago. She knocked once but there was no answer, so she let herself in. It looked exactly the same, with the exception of a suitcase near the dresser and Abigail’s furniture. She set Abigail down in the crib, and then ran her fingers through her hair.

“Sometimes I wonder how you and I made something so perfect,” Sherlock said from the doorway.

Irene smiled slightly. “I’ve wondered the same thing myself.” She ran her fingertips gently down Abigail’s cheek. “You’ve done such a good job with her. I don’t regret leaving her with you.”

“But you regret not seeing her grow up.”

“Yes,” she said with a nod. “What was her first word?”

“Dada,” he replied as he came up behind her. “She said it about a week after she started walking. Her next word was hi.”

“She calls Molly Mama,” she said. “Molly said you all have been trying to get Abigail to call her something different.”

“Yes,” he said. 

“You shouldn’t,” she said as he stood next to her. She looked at him and saw he was staring back, surprised. “I’ll never be Abigail’s mother, not in the way I should be. Even if you save me from this problem, I’ll still need to live in hiding. She won’t be safe if I stay here in London. Molly deserves to be called her mother, because she’ll be a better mother than I will. She is a good choice to take care of Abigail if anything happens to you.”

“I’m glad you approve,” he said quietly.

“I never loved you, you know. I was infatuated and attracted, but I never loved you. Molly loves you, and you seem to love her as well. She’s good for you, Sherlock.” She put a hand on his arm. “Don’t let her get away.”

“I won’t,” he said. “I asked her to move in with me yesterday. After today…”

“She doesn’t have many other options,” Irene said with a nod. “You should consider just marrying her.”

“I don’t think I’m ready for that yet,” he said. “And I don’t know if she is willing to make that commitment right now.”

She smiled at him. “Stay alive long enough to get through this and ask her. You might just be surprised by her answer.”

“And what do you plan on doing when all this is over?” he asked.

Her smile faltered slightly. “To be honest, either I’ll go back into hiding or I won’t be living through this.”

“Don’t say that,” he replied.

She moved the hand on his arm to caress his cheek slightly. “Sometimes you are so naïve, Sherlock. It’s one of your lesser qualities. I’ve accepted that is what will happen in the end. You should too.” She dropped her hand. “If it comes down to it, I’ll die to keep Abigail safe. I’d rather make that sacrifice then have you make it for me, or have John or Molly or anyone else placed in harm’s way more than they already are.”

“I’m doing all this so you can survive,” he said. “So that when she’s old enough she can try and find you and get to know you. You are her mother.”

“Sherlock,” she said gently. “It’s all right, honest. It’s best if she doesn’t try and find me. It might be best in the end if I’m no longer in the picture.” He opened his mouth to protest and she placed a finger on his lips. “Don’t do this for me. Do this to keep your loved ones safe.” She removed her finger and then took a step away from him. “I believe I’ll go rest right now. Let me know when dinner is ready.” And with that she left the room, leaving him to his thoughts.


	3. Chapter 3

The next day arrived and John and Sherlock made an early start, leaving before the sun rose. Lestrade had done surveillance for them, with Donovan’s assistance, and Mycroft pooled together as many resources as he could. There had been no further attempts made to harm anyone currently at 221B Baker Street, but the people inside were still tense. Irene seemed to have made her peace with the idea that they were all going to follow through with Sherlock’s plan, but mostly she spent her time with Abigail and Molly while the men worked. 

It was on that day when Wellington revealed what he knew. Irene had been in the common room with Molly feeding Abigail at the table. John had come back to check in on them and had gotten the afternoon mail on his way in. When he came back into the living room he was staring at an envelope. Irene was the first to notice. “What is it, John?” she asked.

He handed it to her. There was no postage on it, and the only writing on it was “Irene Adler” in a flowing handwriting. “Apparently someone knows you’re here.” Her hand was shaking as she took the envelope from him and opened it.

She put a hand to her mouth and showed it to John. “They’ve been inside the house.”

John pulled out the photograph first. It was his bedroom, and Irene was sleeping on the bed. Then he looked at the note. “Irene. So good of you to return,” he read as Molly came closer. “I was sure the threat to your daughter would be efficient. I had not anticipated you would turn to Sherlock Holmes for help. It is of no matter; as you can see, I can come get you at any point. Tell Sherlock he has twenty-four hours to deliver you to me or not only will I come take you by force but I’ll murder his daughter, his lover and his friend in their sleep. George.” There was an address and a time underneath his signature. John shook his head. “We’re lucky the secret lasted as long as it did. At least we got some evidence gathered.”

“We don’t have everything ready!” Molly said.

“We have a lot, but not enough,” John said. “Sherlock went to talk to a young woman today for more information.” He dug out his phone. “I’ll call him.”

Irene stood up. “There’s no point. Don’t you understand? The only people that have been let into this house were the people in on the plan and the government agents keeping watch. At least one of the agents is working for George. One of them must have come in and snapped the picture while we were all asleep.”

“And that’s what I’m going to tell Sherlock,” John said as he put the phone to his ear. Sherlock picked up on the second ring and John didn’t even wait for a greeting. “At least one of the agents guarding the house is working for Wellington.”

“Damn,” Sherlock said quietly. “How do you know?”

“George sent a note to Irene with a photograph of her asleep in my bed.”

“Get them out of there now. Take a cab and don’t tell the agents anything, just go. Make sure you lose the agents if they try and follow,” Sherlock said. “I’ll call Mycroft. Mycroft’s home is like a fort.” He then gave John the address. “Keep them safe, John.”

“Right,” John said. He hung up and looked at the two women. “We’re going to Mycroft’s home. Get your things together quickly.” John and Irene went towards John’s room and Molly took Abigail to Sherlock’s room. Within twenty minutes they were all packed up and John got them out into a cab. He gave the driver Mycroft’s address, and kept a watch behind him. “We’re being followed,” he told the driver. “Can you lose them?”

“The black sedan?” the driver asked, slightly nervous. John nodded. “I’ll see what I can do.”

John kept a lookout in the mirror while the cab driver took the long route. After twenty tense minutes John spoke up. “You seem to have lost them.”

“Are you guys into something illegal?” the driver asked.

“No, but we’re protecting someone important. Take us to the address I gave you before we left.”

The driver nodded and took them to Mycroft’s home. John paid the driver and then went behind Molly, Irene and Abigail as they made their way into Mycroft’s home. Anthea was waiting at the door for them. “Mycroft isn’t home. I’m here to make everyone comfortable while we wait for Mycroft and his brother to return.”

“How do I know you’re not in on it?” John asked suspiciously.

“Mycroft has my undisputed loyalty. And while George has offered me money to spy on Mycroft in the past, he’s never been able to offer me anything I actually want.”

“Such as?” John asked.

“You want Mycroft to openly admit your relationship with him and marry you,” Irene said quietly, holding Abigail gently. 

John looked surprised. “Really?”

Anthea, to her credit, didn’t look surprised. She simply nodded. “I love Mycroft, but he’s too blind to see it. Even so, I wouldn’t betray him, not while I still have him in my life.” She moved out of the way so they could all enter. “And I trust you’ll keep this information quiet,” she added as she shut the door behind them.

“Won’t breathe a word of it,” John said. “I just want to know how you knew, Irene.”

She smiled slightly. “They’ve been together for years. The state of their relationship is a sort of open secret in the government. I doubted much had changed in the last few years.”

“There are rooms for each of you, so please make yourself comfortable,” Anthea said. “I’ll show you to them.”

“Is there a crib for Abigail?” Irene said.

Anthea nodded. “In Sherlock and Molly’s room. I’ll show you.” She headed towards the stairs and the others followed. They were part of the way up when the door opened and Mycroft, Lestrade and Sherlock came in. “I was just going to show them to their rooms,” she said to Mycroft.

Mycroft nodded. “Very well, Anthea. Take John’s belongings. We need to speak with him.”

John handed his bag to Anthea and she, Irene, Molly and Abigail went up the stairs. John went back down to the other men, pulling out the note and photograph. “How did this happen?” he asked as he showed it to Mycroft and Lestrade.

“Wellington has a long reach,” Mycroft murmured, taking the photograph as Lestrade took the letter, Sherlock reading it over his shoulder. “You are positive this was taken recently?”

“Last night, I’d wager,” John said. “That’s the outfit she was wearing yesterday.”

“They will be safe here,” Mycroft said. “Is Molly still armed?”

“I believe so,” Sherlock said, and John nodded. “Yes, she is.”

“There is a panic room here that Anthea can get into, should anyone make any attempts to take them by force,” Mycroft said. “I have also told her to be armed while all of you are here.” He turned to Lestrade. “Do you need to stay as well?”

Lestrade thought for a moment, then nodded. “If he knows Irene is back in London he’ll know I’m involved as well. More worried for my ex-wife and daughters, though.”

“I will go with you to get them personally,” Mycroft said. “I have enough room here for everyone.”

“Have enough room in that panic room of yours?” John asked.

“Yes,” Mycroft said with a nod. “It’s large enough to hold everyone, and it’s stocked with supplies. I recently added baby food and diapers to the stores, just in case.”

“You think of everything,” John said.

“I didn’t think those people I set to guard you would betray me,” Mycroft said with a shake of his head. “Were you able to get the information you needed?” he asked Sherlock.

He nodded. “The young woman is in Lestrade’s car as we speak.”

“Go get her,” Mycroft told Lestrade, who turned and left. A few minutes later he returned with a girl who couldn’t be any older than thirteen, though she wore the make-up and clothes of a woman ten years older. “You’ll be safe here,” Mycroft told her as she got closer.

“Who are all of you?” she asked, looking scared.

“This is my brother, Mycroft,” Sherlock said to her as he pointed to Mycroft. “And this is my friend John.” Sherlock turned to her. “They won’t hurt you.”

“What’s your name?” John asked softly.

“Amanda.”

“How old are you?” Mycroft asked, his voice fairly gentle.

“Eleven,” she said. “I turn twelve next week.”

Sherlock happened to be looking at Mycroft when she answered and saw his jaw clench. “She has already told us her story,” Sherlock said. “We promised to feed her and let her get some rest before we were called here.”

“Of course,” Mycroft said. “What would you like to do first, Amanda?”

“I haven’t had a good meal in a while,” she said. “Could I get something to eat?”

Mycroft nodded. He looked to the stairs and saw Anthea and Molly descending. “This is my assistant Anthea, and the other woman is Molly, a friend of Sherlock’s. Anthea, would you take Amanda to the kitchen and get her something to eat?”

“Of course,” Anthea said with a nod. She smiled at the girl. “What would you like to eat?” she asked her as they moved away from the others.

“He was with that poor young girl?” Molly asked as soon as Anthea and Amanda were out of earshot. “He’s a monster.” She wrapped her arms around herself. “How young is she?”

“She’s eleven,” Sherlock said quietly. “Are you all right?”

“Fine,” she said with a nod. “I just wanted to know what was going on.”

“We have our leverage. She gave us names of other girls, and Donovan is rounding them up,” Lestrade said. “But if we can’t trust the government agents we probably shouldn’t trust Scotland Yard, either. There were three girls. What do you want us to do with them?”

“Bring them here,” Mycroft said. “This is the benefit of having such a large home. I can keep everyone here comfortably.”

“I’ll call her and let her know,” Lestrade replied. “Is it all right if I go get my family now?”

Sherlock nodded. “Of course.”

With that, Lestrade turned to leave, Mycroft beside him. Mycroft paused at the door. “You know what we need to do,” he said to Sherlock.

He nodded. “I’ll go get her,” he said.

“Get who?” John asked.

“Our mother,” Sherlock replied. “She was out of town and arrived home this morning. I told her not to let anyone in and not to answer the door and to pack a few things. I’m going to fetch her and bring her here.”

“Should we be worried about Sally?” Molly asked.

“We’ll extend an offer for her to stay as soon as she gets the other girls,” Mycroft said. “She’s in on this plan as well, so it’s only right.”

“I’ll be back soon,” Sherlock said to Molly. She came over and kissed him quickly, and then he followed Mycroft and Lestrade out the door, leaving John and Molly alone.

“I feel safer here,” Molly said.

“I do too,” John replied before looking in the direction Anthea and Amanda had gone. “Christ. Eleven years old. He’s got serious issues.”

Molly nodded. “I’m going to pop into the kitchen and get something to eat and talk to her.”

“Sounds like a good idea. I’ll join you,” he said. The two of them followed the women and they found Amanda sitting near the counter with a bowl of stew and a glass of milk, and Anthea was nearby. “Good food?” he asked Amanda.

She nodded. “Anthea told me not to wolf it down, but I’m so hungry.”

“If you eat it too fast you’ll get sick,” Molly said with a smile. “But I’m hungry too.”

“There’s more,” Anthea said. “Would you like some as well, John?”

He nodded. “Yes.”

“It’s in the red container in the refrigerator,” Anthea replied. She went to a cabinet and got two more bowls down while John went to the refrigerator. He found the red container and got it out, and then took a serving spoon from the drying rack. He served up two bowls of stew, popped one into the microwave, and when that was done handed it to Molly and popped the other one in. Anthea handed a spoon to each of them. “I’m glad you enjoyed the food,” she said to Amanda.

“Did you make it?” she asked.

Anthea shook her head. “If you can believe it, Mycroft did.”

Molly’s eyes widened. “He can really cook. This is better than your stew, John.”

“We’ll see about that,” he said as his bowl finished. He pulled it out and ate a spoonful. “Okay, you’re right. I’ll have to ask for the recipe.”

Amanda giggled slightly. “You guys are funny.”

“We try to be,” Molly said with a smile.

“I thought I heard voices in here,” Irene said as she came into the kitchen, holding Abigail and carrying her bag. She looked at Amanda for a moment, then Anthea. “Another guest?”

Anthea nodded. “Someone to help you out.”

“Ah,” she replied. She went over to the girl. “I’m Irene.”

“I’m Amanda,” she said before taking another bite of stew. “Is that your baby?”

She nodded. “Yes, this is my daughter Abigail.”

“Who’s the dad?”

“Sherlock,” she replied.

Amanda looked confused. “I thought he liked Molly.”

Irene and Molly looked at each other. “It’s…complicated,” Molly said after a moment. “Irene’s been gone a long while, and she came back.”

“Are you Irene Adler?” Amanda asked quietly.

“Yes,” she said with a nod.

“He…talked about you,” she said, looking down at her bowl. “When he…would do things. Said how you messed up his life. Then he’d get angry and hurt me.” She looked back at Irene. “You were lucky to get away.”

“Yes, I was,” Irene said quietly. “I’m sorry he hurt you…”

“Her name’s Amanda,” John said.

“I’m sorry he hurt you, Amanda,” Irene said, coming over to her. “Sherlock is trying to make sure he never hurts you again. Have faith in him, all right?”

Amanda nodded. “All right.”

The four adults engaged Amanda in conversation while they waited, and they stayed there even after Amanda decided to go rest. Anthea came back after she got Amanda settled in and soon enough Sherlock, Mycroft and Lestrade had returned with their families. Lestrade’s family went upstairs to their rooms with Mycroft while Sherlock brought his mother into the kitchen.

“Anthea, darling, lovely to see you,” she said with a smile.

“Hello, ma’am,” Anthea replied with a smile of her own. 

“And Molly, I’m so pleased to see you again,” she said to Molly.

“Hello,” Molly said with a grin.

“Nana,” Abigail said happily from Molly’s arms.

“Abby,” she said, going up and giving both Abigail and Molly a kiss on the cheek. Abigail reached over for her and Molly handed Abigail to her grandmother. “You’ve gotten so big in the last few months.” Then Sherlock’s mother got to Irene. “You must be Irene, Abigail’s mother.”

Irene nodded, looking slightly nervous. “Yes.”

She went over to Irene and embraced her. Irene was startled for a moment, but then hugged her back, albeit a bit awkwardly. “Thank you,” she said quietly.

“For what?”

“For bringing my granddaughter into the world.” She pulled away and looked at her. “Abigail got your best features.”

Irene smiled slightly. “Thank you,” she said quietly.

“Would it be all right if I got to know you better?” she asked.

Irene nodded. “All right,” she said. She looked at Sherlock, who nodded to her, and the three of them went away from everyone else to talk.

Molly moved over to Sherlock and grasped his hand in hers. “You must have been dreading this,” she said quietly.

“On the contrary,” he said. “I think it will be a good thing. She’s been curious about Irene since I told her Abigail was in my care. But I still think she’ll like you best.”

“That doesn’t matter,” she said with a slight blush.

“It does,” he said, looking at her. “You’re the one I want to be with now.”

She smiled at him. “Well, then I’m glad we’re all here.”

The doorbell rang and everyone tensed slightly. Anthea opened up her jacket slightly and put her hand on the holster of her gun. “I’ll get it,” she replied. She left the room and then a few minutes later came back with Mycroft, Lestrade, Donovan and three young girls in tow, all of whom looked terrified.

“Someone shot at us,” Donovan said to Lestrade. “They shot out one of the windows in the car and the bullet lodged in my arm.”

John got to Donovan first and looked closely at the wound after she shrugged out of her jacket. “Let’s stop the bleeding first,” she said.

Anthea grabbed a towel from the counter and brought it to John. “Will this work?”

“Rip it in half and tie it above the wound,” John said.

“Can you get the bullet out?” Mycroft asked as Anthea did as John instructed.

“I can,” he said, “but I can’t give her the stitches she’ll need. You’ll need to take her to the hospital.”

“She’ll be a sitting duck,” Lestrade said. 

“I have the material needed for stitches. John or Molly can do the stitches,” Mycroft said, nodding to Anthea, who left the room. “What do you need to get the bullet out?”

“My medical kit,” John said. “But I don’t have it.

“I have one in my suitcase,” Molly said. “Bring the rest of the towel with us. Can you get up the stairs, Sally?”

“Yes. I don’t feel faint yet,” Donovan said as Sherlock took the other half of the towel from Anthea.

“Let’s go into the bathroom in my room,” Molly said as she led Donovan out of the kitchen, with Lestrade, Sherlock and John following. Molly went to her suitcase and pulled out the medical kit, then looked at Lestrade. “Give John your lighter, Greg.”

“You don’t smoke,” Sherlock said, surprised.

“Flicking it on and off is a nervous habit. Besides, it never hurts to have one around,” he said as he fished it out of his pocket.

Molly led Donovan into the bathroom after handing her kit to John. “Sit on the sink counter,” John told her. Donovan did as she was told. John took the lighter from Lestrade, then set Molly’s kit on the counter next to Donovan and opened it, pulling out a pair of tweezers and a scalpel. He took the lighter in one hand and flicked it on, then used his other hand to hold the scalpel over the flame. He handed the scalpel to Molly to hold and repeated the action with the tweezers. Then he handed Molly the tweezers and took the scalpel, making a small incision in the bullet wound. Donovan bit her lip but Sherlock could tell it hurt her. After the incision was big enough he took the tweezers and put them inside the wound. After a moment he pulled his hand back and pulled the tweezers out, which had the bullet between them. “There, it’s out. Sherlock, tie the other bit of towel around the wound. It will have to do until she can get the stitches.”

“Now I feel like I’m going to faint,” Donovan said with clenched teeth.

“Get her to lie down but don’t let her fall asleep. She’s lost some blood but not a whole lot,” Molly said. “Should we call Anderson?”

“Yes,” Donovan said as Lestrade helped her off the counter and guided her to the bed. Donovan laid down and Lestrade sat by her feet. “I know he’s not your favorite person, Sherlock, but he’s the father of my child and I want him here where he’s safe.”

“By all means, he should be here too,” Sherlock said, nodding his head.

“I’ll stay here with Sally,” John said. 

Anthea came with the supplies. “Will this work?” she asked John.

He looked at them and nodded. “Yes. Molly, can you help?

“Of course,” she said with a nod before turning to Sherlock and Lestrade. “You two go get Anderson.”

Lestrade nodded and got off the bed, where Molly took his place, and the two men headed back down the stairs. Within moments they were out. Sherlock saw Donovan’s car and saw that the driver’s side window was shot out and the glass of the window behind it was fractured. But then he and Lestrade were getting in Lestrade’s vehicle. They drove to Scotland Yard in silence, and immediately upon arrival they headed inside. “Where is Anderson?” Lestrade asked the first person they came across.

“Pacing in your office,” she replied. “He’s been trying to get a hold of you all afternoon.”

“Good,” he said, and they moved quickly to his office. Anderson was indeed pacing there, and stopped when Lestrade opened the door. “Come with us.”

“Someone tried to kill me today,” he said. Then he paused. “Where’s Sally?”

“She’s safe. Injured, but safe,” Sherlock said. “And you will be too, as long as you come with us.”

“Injured or safe?” Anderson asked sarcastically.

“No fighting,” Lestrade said as Sherlock opened his mouth to make a snide reply. “You’ll be safe, just come with us.”

“This has to do with that off the books case,” Anderson said quietly.

“Yes, and you’re in danger,” Lestrade said. “So get your things and come with us.”

“Fine,” Anderson said. He grabbed his coat and the three of them hurried back out. Sherlock got in the passenger seat and Anderson got in the back as Lestrade got in the car and started it, Anderson spilling the details on the attempt on his life. They hurried back to Mycroft’s home and were let inside by Mycroft.

“She’s been moved to a room of her own,” Mycroft said. “John just sewed up her wound. Molly is with her. Last room on the left.” Lestrade and Anderson went upstairs to see Sally while Sherlock stayed downstairs with Mycroft. “What is it?” he asked, looking at Sherlock’s face.

“Anderson said someone tried to kill him today,” he said.

“It appears that Wellington is taking your involvement seriously,” he murmured.

“I’m putting innocent people at risk,” he replied. “And he has his hands in the government and the police force.” Sherlock sighed and ran a hand over his face. “This _has_ to end tomorrow.”

“It’s looking as though the only way this will stop is if he’s dead,” Mycroft said.

“Yes, I know.”

“I may not be able to save you if it comes down to that,” he replied. “He has power I can’t touch.”

“I know that, too,” he said as he began to pace. “I don’t know what to do, Mycroft.”

Mycroft reached over and stopped his brother, placing both hands on his shoulders. “Meet with him tomorrow. Go armed. Try and get him to see reason. And if not, try and find a way to kill him where you can claim self-defense.” He looked his brother in the eye. “Tonight, spend time with Abigail. Spend time with Molly. Remember that you’re doing this to keep them safe.”

Sherlock sighed defeatedly. “All right, Mycroft. Where is Abigail?”

“Still with Mummy and Irene. They seem to have hit it off very well, surprisingly.”

Sherlock smiled slightly. “Does she know what Irene did?”

Mycroft nodded. “Yes. It doesn’t seem to matter to her.”

“I’m surprised,” he replied.

“As am I.” 

With that, the brothers walked towards the sitting room. Sherlock looked at the two women, then went over to his mother. “I was wondering if I could hold Abigail for a while, Mum,” he said.

“Of course, dear,” she said, handing Abigail to him. He cradled his daughter close to him. “It’s about time she went down for a nap anyway, I think.”

“Could she sleep in my room tonight?” Irene asked.

Sherlock nodded. “Yes, that’s fine. I’ll have the crib moved into your room tonight.”

“Thank you,” she said, a smile on her face.

Sherlock took Abigail away and headed towards his room. When he opened the door he saw Molly sitting on the bed, staring at the floor. “Molly,” he said quietly.

She looked up. “Anderson said he was almost killed today,” she said quietly.

“Yes.” He sat next to her on the bed. “So many innocent people are being dragged into this. It’s all my fault for trying to save Irene instead of just letting her do it the way she intended.”

“Sherlock,” she said. “It’s not your fault.”

“If I hadn’t been so insistent…”

She silenced him with a soft kiss. “You wouldn’t be able to live with yourself if you’d just let her give herself up to that monster,” she said when she pulled away. “And Abigail never would have forgiven either of you, when she was old enough to understand.”

“I know,” he said. “Mycroft told me to spend time with the two of you tonight in case things go wrong tomorrow.”

“You should spend time with Abigail now,” she said, standing up. “You can see me tonight.”

He reached out his free hand to grab her arm, then slid his hand down to hold hers. “Marry me,” he said, looking at her intently.

She looked surprised, bordering on shocked. “Why?”

“I want to know that if we come out of this unscathed, if we all survive this tomorrow and I don’t end up in prison for murder, that you will marry me. I’ve done some hard thinking last night. I thought that perhaps living with you would be enough. But it’s not. I want you to be my wife, Molly.”

She moved her hand so their fingers were linked together. “I’ll marry you, Sherlock,” she said with a smile, unshed tears in her eyes. She leaned down and kissed him, a lingering kiss that only ended when she pulled away. “I promise I’ll marry you as soon as possible.”

“Thank you,” he said.

“Spend some time with Abigail now. I’ll go share the news.” She squeezed his hand and then left the room.

Sherlock looked at his daughter. “Dada, hi,” she said with a smile.

“Hello,” he said quietly as she yawned. He felt a slight lump in his throat. This could be the last real time he got to spend with her. He touched her cheek softly. “I love you, Abigail. Remember that, always. I love you and I’m doing all this to keep you safe.” She leaned her head on his shoulder, and after a moment he shifted so he was lying down on the bed, Abigail on his chest. “Go ahead and go to sleep,” he said quietly. He ran his fingers through her hair for a moment before rubbing her back gently. He didn’t know how long he was like that before he heard a knock on his door. All he knew was that Abigail was asleep. “Come in.”

His mother opened the door and stepped in. “Oh, Sherlock,” she said quietly. “I made Mycroft tell me everything. I’m proud of you.” She came to the bed and he moved his legs to give her space to sit. “Everything will work out. I have faith.”

“Perhaps I need that myself,” he replied.

“I wanted to give you something, for Molly,” she said, and she tugged a ring off her ring finger. “This is the ring your father gave me when he proposed. I think Molly should have a ring, don’t you?”

“Mum…” he began, but she pulled a hand away from Abigail and put the ring in his palm, and then curled his fingers over it. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, Sherlock, I’m sure.” She held her son’s hand for a moment. “Your father would have liked her. He would have liked Irene, too. Promise me that tomorrow you’ll try your best to get both of you out alive.”

“I promise,” he said.

“Why don’t I take Abigail and you move the crib into Irene’s room?” she said. He nodded, and his mother took a sleeping Abigail off his chest. She stood up and he got off the bed, putting the ring in his pants pocket and then going to the crib, carrying it to the next room and setting it down near the bed. His mother put Abigail in it. “You both love her so much,” she said as they gazed at the sleeping girl.

“Yes, we do,” he said quietly.

“Make sure you come home tomorrow,” she said, turning to her son and hugging him. He hugged his mother back. “I’ll go tell Irene Abigail’s here,” she said as she pulled away. “And I’ll go tell Molly you have something to give her.”

Sherlock stared at his daughter as his mother left the room, then leaned down and kissed her forehead gently before leaving the room and heading back to his own room. He sat back down on the bed and a few minutes later Molly opened the door. “Your mother said you had something for me?”

He dug into his pocket as she got closer and pulled out the ring. “This was the ring my father gave to my mother when he proposed. She felt you ought to have it.” He took her left hand in his and slid the ring onto her ring finger. It fit perfectly. He then grasped her hands in his. “I can’t promise I’ll survive this meeting tomorrow, or that I won’t end up in jail for murder if it comes to that. But I can promise I will try to come back to you, safe and sound, and we can move forward from there.”

“That’s all I can ask,” she said. “But there’s something I want to show you as well.” She pulled her hands away and went to her suitcase. “I did this this morning, after you left to go talk to Amanda.” She opened her suitcase and pulled out something small, long and thin. “I washed it off before I left.”

“What is it?” he asked. She handed it to him and then he could tell what it was: a pregnancy test. He looked at it more closely and saw it had two lines in the results field. “Molly…”

“I’m pregnant,” she said. “I was late, and I thought it might be the stress of work and all this, so I made John go out and get me two tests and I made him swear not to tell you in case they were negative. I’m going to have blood work done later to confirm it and find out how far along I am, but…Abigail’s getting a brother or sister in the next few months.”

He looked up at her, surprised. “You’re really pregnant?”

She nodded. “Yes. I did two of those stupid tests and they both came back positive.”

He stood up and kissed her, a deep kiss that took her breath away. “I swear, I will not leave you to go through this alone,” he said, cradling her face in his hands.

“You better not,” she said as a tear slipped down her face. He wiped it away and pulled her close.

“Have you told anyone else?” he asked, his lips nestled in her hair.

“No, just you,” she replied, her voice slightly muffled. “I wanted to make sure you knew first. Are you happy with the news?”

“More than you could possibly know,” he said as he pulled away. “Do you want to tell everyone now?”

“No. Let’s just keep this between us for now,” she said, shaking her head. “We already got engaged tonight. We can tell everyone when you come home tomorrow.” He could tell she was trying not to cry but she wasn’t succeeding. “Just make sure you come home tomorrow, all right? Please?”

“All right,” he said with a nod, wiping away the tears. He kissed her again, tenderly, and then held her close. He would try his hardest to escape this unscathed because now he had even more of a reason to survive. He just hoped he was able to.


	4. Chapter 4

The next afternoon came too quickly for everyone involved. There had been a small debate as to who would go to the meeting, but in the end Sherlock won out that it would just be him and Irene, though he did allow John, Mycroft and Lestrade to wait nearby in case they were needed. Everyone except the girls came downstairs when noon rolled around, and Sherlock took the opportunity to look at everyone and burn their images in his head in case this all went south today. Then he and Irene left, getting in the cab Mycroft had called for them.

Sherlock looked at Irene. She seemed pale and nervous, but determined as well. He could see her hand was shaking, and he grasped the one closest to him in an attempt to soothe her nerves. She turned to him, a small smile on her face. “The last time you did that with me was in your sleep, after we were together,” she replied, though she did tighten her grip on his hand.

“I didn’t realize I did that,” he replied.

“I know. I held your hand for at least an hour as you slept, while I tried to figure out what my next move would be.”

“I always wondered why you stayed that night instead of running. You could have taken the fake identification and my money and left as soon as I fell asleep,” he said quietly.

“It was going to be my only chance to be close to you,” she said. “I didn’t want to ruin something that I had enjoyed, and I didn’t want the moment to end too soon.” She looked at him closely. “I don’t let men get close to me. Or women, for that matter. You were different, and I wanted to savor that evening.”

“What was it like when you found out you were pregnant?”

“I was terrified. I considered an abortion, but I just couldn’t, because she was yours. When I found out I was having a girl, that was when I decided to come back to London for the birth. I had hoped you would find me, but your brother found me instead and delivered his ultimatum. That was what I had planned anyway, but I had wanted you to search for me.”

“I had no reason to,” he replied. “I thought you were well hidden and would have the sense to stay that way.”

“I realized that when a week had gone by and there was no sign of you,” she said with a sad smile. “What did that night mean to you?”

“It was something I think I needed,” he replied. “I needed it and didn’t really realize that I did. But then it was over and I moved on.”

Irene nodded. “I had assumed as much.” 

“I want to tell you something. I think you should know,” he said.

“All right. What is it?”

“Molly is pregnant,” he said. “She said we would tell everyone tonight, when this was all over, but I felt you should know now.”

Irene’s smile warmed a bit. “So Abigail will have a brother or sister soon? That’s good. I think she’ll enjoy that.” She put her other hand on top of their joined hands and squeezed slightly. “Congratulations.”

“Thank you,” he replied. “Now you know why it’s so important we get out of this alive.”

“Yes, I can see that,” Irene said with a nod. “But in all honesty, it’s important that _you_ get out alive. If it goes to hell, I’ll still go with him, if that will keep all of you safe. But you can try your plan. I’ll do whatever you say.” She paused. “I changed my will when I came back to London. I’ve left nearly everything to Abigail. Kate will be taken care of, and she will keep my former home, but the majority of what I have left will go to Abigail.”

“Irene—“ he began, but she shook her head and he stopped.

“Just in case,” she replied.

“All right,” he said with a nod. They remained silent for the rest of the trip, still holding hands, until the cab pulled up to the building where the meeting was supposed to take place. They got out, and Sherlock looked at her. Even though the building was a run-down warehouse he knew the door would be open. George Wellington would have made sure of it. He stilled his hand on the knob. “Are you ready?”

“As I’ll ever be,” she said, straightening her stance. He opened the door for her and they walked in. They walked forward a few feet and saw a man in an expensive suit standing under one of the lights. “George,” she said quietly, nodding her head to him.

“Irene,” he replied. “It’s good to see you.” Then he turned to Sherlock Holmes. “And the illustrious Sherlock Holmes. You’ve been quite busy these last few days, trying to find ammunition to use against me. Were you successful?”

“I have four underage girls willing to testify to the things you did to them,” he replied.

“Pity they won’t live to see the trial, I’m afraid,” he replied. “They can’t stay at your brother’s forever, and when they leave…” He pointed his fingers like a gun and moved it back quickly. “Bang bang. I can do the same to your brother and his assistant as well. I might not be able to get into that fortress of his, but people will need to leave eventually.”

Sherlock stared at him. “You won’t lay a finger on them,” he said slowly, his voice low.

“I need to get rid of the witnesses,” George said with a shrug. “And speaking of guns, Sherlock, kindly remove yours and toss it over here. There’s no need for you to be armed.” Sherlock reached into his coat pocket and removed the gun he had in there, throwing it in between him and George. He still had another gun in the shoulder holster Lestrade had loaned him.

George walked over and picked it up. “Irene, dear, come to me.” She looked to Sherlock for a moment, and in response he pointed the gun at Sherlock. “Come to me or I shoot him in the head.” Irene moved over to George. He put his other arm around her waist and pulled her close, moving his face to kiss her neck. “It’s good to have you back, Irene.” Sherlock used the distraction to get his gun out of the holster. When he cocked it George turned his attention back to Sherlock. “Should have figured you’d come with two guns. I was hoping you’d be smart about things, Sherlock. Let her go without a fight.”

“Sherlock,” Irene said.

“Yes?” he asked, not taking his attention away from George.

“Make sure Abigail knows I love her,” she said, and only then did Sherlock turn his attention to Irene. But before he could say anything else she grabbed the arm George was holding the gun with and twisted her body at the same time. George was surprised, and she used his surprise to pull the gun out of his hand. He didn’t let go easily, however, but she slammed her heel down on his foot and made him let go. She turned, trained the gun on him, and shot him in the chest. He fell down onto the ground, clutching his chest.

Irene turned and took two steps away, but Sherlock watched in horror as George pulled out a gun of his own and aimed at Irene. “Irene!” he called out. She turned, and at that moment George pulled the trigger once, then again, before dropping the gun. Irene sank to her knees, and then fell to the ground. Sherlock went to George and kicked the gun out of his reach in case he was still alive, and then went to Irene, pulling her close. “Irene,” he said quietly.

“I told you I knew how to shoot a gun,” she said quietly.

He couldn’t see exactly where she got hit, but he could hear a gurgling in her lungs. “I need to call an ambulance.”

“No need, Sherlock,” she said as she tried to take a deep breath. “I told you…that I knew I wouldn’t…survive.” She coughed, and blood came out of her mouth. “Dying in your arms…isn’t so bad.” She reached up and touched his face. “Abigail will be safe,” she said, her breathing becoming shallower. “Live a…happy life, Sherlock. Promise…me.”

“I promise,” he said quietly. Irene shut her eyes, and after one last breath her hand fell from his face and he could feel her go limp in his arms. She had a slight smile on her face, and Sherlock stayed there for a few minutes, holding her against him. It was perhaps five minutes later when Lestrade, Mycroft and John burst in. 

“We heard the gunshots,” Lestrade said. “But he had people at the door.”

“You’re too late,” Sherlock said.

John went over to George and checked his pulse. “So they’re both dead,” he said quietly as he stood up.

“Yes,” Sherlock said. “George took one of my guns from me, Irene got it away from him and shot him in the chest. She turned her back on him and he shot her twice with his own gun.” He moved Irene off of his lap, laying her down gently. “He probably wanted to make sure that if he couldn’t have her no one could.”

“I’m sorry,” John said, clapping a hand on Sherlock’s shoulder as he stood up. His head was bowed, and he looked down at Irene. He had failed to save her, and he knew this would haunt him far more than other things he had failed to do. He could dimly hear sirens getting closer. “We called an ambulance, just in case.”

Sherlock nodded slowly. He didn’t want to think about that right now. The paramedics rushed in five minutes later, and upon seeing Irene’s blood on Sherlock’s shirt they tried to treat him, but he pushed them away. They called the coroner as the police arrived, and Sherlock found himself dealing with D.I. Dimmock, who listened to the story and after an hour let Sherlock and the others leave.

They solemnly made their way back to Mycroft’s home. All the adults and Abigail were in the sitting room, and Donovan gasped at the blood on Sherlock’s clothes. “What happened?” she asked.

“The threat has been taken care of,” Sherlock said quietly.

Molly got up and came over to him, holding him close. He held her for a few moments, and then she pulled away. “Irene didn’t make it, did she?” she asked quietly, and Sherlock shook his head. She hugged him again. “I’m so sorry, Sherlock.”

“Thank you,” he replied. Then he looked at everyone else in the room. “I’m going to go clean up and change, and then I’ll tell all of you everything.” He turned back to Molly. “Would you come with me?”

“Of course,” she said with a nod. She reached over for his hand and they left the room and went to the room they were sharing. Molly sat down on the bed while Sherlock took a shower, and when he was done he came back out to her, towel wrapped around his waist. “Who killed him?” she asked.

“Irene,” he replied, getting out fresh clothes from the bag he’d brought. “He killed her before he died.”

She looked at him closely. “You tried to save her. That counts for something.”

“But I failed miserably,” he said, pausing in what he was doing. “She’s dead, and there isn’t anything I could do to stop it. She was in my line of fire.”

“She knew there was a very good chance she wasn’t going to get out of this alive,” she replied going over to him. She reached up to touch his face. “She was willing to make the sacrifice. By killing him she would have given up her freedom. This isn’t any better, but at least she knew her daughter was safe in the end.”

“She made me promise that I would live a happy life,” he said. “Before she died, she made me make that promise.”

“And you will,” she said before leaning up and kissing him. He put his arms around her as he kissed her back, and when she pulled away from the kiss she put her arms around his neck. “I’ll make sure of it, Sherlock.”

“All right,” he said with a nod.

“I’m thankful you came home alive,” she said. “I owe her for that.”

“I owe her as well,” he said. “He could have aimed for me and hit me, but he chose to kill her with his dying actions.” He sighed. “It will be a very long time before I can move past this, I think.”

“I’ll be there if you want to talk,” she said.

“Thank you, Molly,” he said before kissing her again. This kiss lasted for some time, and when they were done he resumed getting dressed. Then they went downstairs and he recounted the entire story for everyone else while he held Abigail close. There was a solemn silence when he finished.

“Since it’s so late in the afternoon I took the liberty of having lunch delivered for all of you,” Anthea said. “The girls have already eaten.”

“What’s going to happen to them?” Molly asked.

“They’ll be staying here, for a time,” Mycroft said. “Anthea has taken an interest in them, and I have offered to take care of them until other arrangements can be made, though I believe Anthea will be trying to take care of Amanda, with help from me.”

Anthea nodded. “She’s a good girl who deserves a better life,” she said quietly. “She hadn’t been in the business long, so I hope that she can go on to have a normal childhood with a good family.” She added that last bit while looking at Mycroft intently.

He had been looking at her and nodded. “That is a possibility,” he replied, and Anthea smiled slightly at him. Then he turned to everyone else. “The food is in the kitchen. Feel free to serve yourselves.”

Everyone left the sitting room and convened in the kitchen, serving up the sandwiches, soup and crisps and eating with conversations in small groups: Lestrade, Donovan and Anderson in one area, Mycroft and Anthea in another, and the rest in a third. When everyone had eaten their fill they went upstairs to gather their things and head home, now that the threat to their lives was gone. Sherlock’s mother was staying over at Mycroft’s for dinner with him and Anthea so it was just Sherlock, Molly, John and Abigail heading home to 221B Baker Street.

The cab pulled up and they got everything inside. “Nothing better than being home and knowing you’re safe,” John said as they stepped into the common room. He looked at Molly. “I’m still sorry about your home.”

She smiled slightly. “It’s all right. I probably would have moved in here anyway. And I had insurance so I’ll be able to replace a lot.” She had carried Abigail in and she kissed the top of her head. “I’m just glad we can put all this behind us.”

“I am as well,” Sherlock replied with a nod.

John was quiet for a moment. “This is completely off topic, but I was wondering about something. You used those pregnancy tests, right?”

Molly smiled. “We were going to wait to tell everyone, but yes, I’m pregnant.”

John grinned widely. “Congratulations, both of you,” he said. He went over to Molly and kissed her cheek. “When are you thinking of letting everyone else know?”

“After she’s confirmed it with blood work,” Sherlock said.

“Even though I did two tests I want to be sure,” she said as John moved over to Sherlock to shake his hand. “I also want to get an idea of how far along I am. But I wanted for all of this to be finished before I went to the doctor’s office.”

“It’s going to be interesting with two young children running around here,” John said. “I’m not sure if I’ll be living here when you give birth, but I’ll make sure I spend time with my godchildren.” He paused. “I’ll be the godfather to the new one as well, right?”

“Of course,” Molly said with a slight laugh. “But why wouldn’t you be here?”

“Mary’s asked me to move in with her,” he said. “We were talking about it before this last week, but with your home being burnt down and you moving in here I thought it might not be a bad idea. We’re still working out the details so it’s a time off.”

“That’s good,” Sherlock said. While he was glad his friend was doing what his heart told him to do, it would be strange not sharing the home with John. It would take some adjusting, so he was glad there was time until that day came.

“Hey, just because I move out doesn’t mean I’ll stop helping with cases,” John said as he looked at Sherlock, and Sherlock relaxed. That was good news to hear. “Don’t want to miss out on that.”

“Well, I’m going to put Abigail down for her nap,” Molly said. “And I’ll probably take one as well.” She kissed Sherlock quickly. “See you both later.”

“Get some rest,” John said. Molly left and he turned to Sherlock. “What’s next?”

“I expect in the next few days I’ll hear from Irene’s executor. She told me before the meeting that she left almost everything to Abigail, so there will be paperwork and things to take care of.” He went to the sofa and sat down, and John went to his chair. “Lestrade has brought over everything that was salvageable from Molly’s home so she’ll need to go through the process of dealing with her insurance company, and then we’ll need to start getting her settled in here. I already told Mrs. Hudson what’s happened and she said Molly can start moving in before she comes back.”

“At least it’s safe for her to come home now,” John replied with a nod.

“That’s true.” Sherlock was quiet for a moment. “After that is the pregnancy and the wedding. I don’t know which is going to come first, though Molly said she’d marry me soon, so it will probably be the wedding.”

“I always assumed I’d get married first,” John said with a slight smile. “It’s nice to know I was wrong about that. You and Molly are good together. Making it legal will be a good thing.”

“I suppose Molly will also adopt Abigail, so that way if anything does happen she’s her parent and not just a guardian. We haven’t talked about that.”

“You have a while yet to figure it all out,” John said. “If I were you I’d go join your fiancée and get some rest. It’s been a hard day.”

“Perhaps you’re right,” Sherlock said with a nod. “I’ll speak to you later.” He got up and went to his bedroom. Molly had just changed into her sleepwear and was pulling back the covers to get into bed. He took a moment to look at her and appreciate the view. He imagined many changes were in store during her pregnancy, and not just physical ones. “I thought I might take the chance to rest as well,” he replied, going to his dresser.

“There’s room,” she said with a smile as she got into bed. She turned away from him, and when he got into bed he pulled her close against him. His hand drifted down to her stomach and he rubbed it absently. “It’s going to be a while until she kicks,” she said with a chuckle.

“She?” he asked, a small grin on his face.

“I always wanted two girls,” she said. “Ever since I was little.”

“Would you be upset if it’s a boy?”

“No,” she said, turning to face him. “Boy or girl, I’ll be happy regardless.” She kissed him softly for a moment and then turned back over. “Sleep well, Sherlock.”

He pressed a kiss in her hair. “You as well, Molly.” He shut his eyes and as relief of the stress of the last few days washed over him he found himself drifting off to sleep quickly, and thankfully it was without nightmares. Instead, he had dreams of the future he was lucky enough to have, and they gave him peace.


End file.
